


I can't go home (because I'm already there)

by Roshwen



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Cassandra makes a decision that might or might not be fueled by alcohol, Cassandra's parents suck, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ezekiel comes to the rescue, Ezekiel is a-okay with this, F/M, Fluff, Morning After, Romance, everything works out in the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 10:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12815208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roshwen/pseuds/Roshwen
Summary: 'We thought we should call you and ask you when you planned to come back home,’ her mother says, as if it’s a done deal. As if Cassandra wants nothing more than to be their prodigy child again now that her pesky little tumor is gone.Or: the fic where Cassandra gets a phone call from her parents, Ezekiel comes over to offer support and a bottle of tequila and accidentally ends up staying the night. Whoops.





	1. Chapter 1

Cassandra has barely changed out of her mud stained clothes and into her fluffy pajamas when her phone starts to buzz.

And honestly. She _just_ got home. After a case that involved a lot more outdoors than she’s used to (hence the mud stains) and a lot more running around than usual. She’s _exhausted._ Next time a pack of werewolves decides to set up shop next to one of the biggest chicken farms in the state (and honestly, who could blame them), she’ll wish them good luck, tell them to try not to eat the farmers and be done with it.

Her phone buzzes again. Whoever it is, they’re insistent. Which means it’s probably Ezekiel, still trying to convince her to go for a celebratory drink after a successful case. Cassandra has half a mind to let it go, ignore the phone and curl up on the couch with a cup of tea and the BBC adaptation of _Persuasion,_ but on the other hand. If it’s Ezekiel.

She can’t not answer Ezekiel. She just can’t.

So she lets out a sigh and grabs her phone, already mentally rehearsing various variations on _no, I told you I’m not coming to the bar._

The name on the flashing screen is not Ezekiel’s. In fact, the name on the flashing screen is so unexpected that Cassandra sinks down on to the couch and stares at it for a good long moment before she finally slides the screen to answer the call.

‘Hello Cassandra,’ says a voice, a voice she hasn’t heard in seven years and did not really expect to hear again. Which would have been fine by her, because the voice is itchy on her skin and makes the hairs in her neck stand on end.

‘ _Mom?’_ she manages even though breathing is suddenly getting rather difficult. ‘What… who…’

Her mother laughs and the static crawls unpleasantly across Cassandra’s arms. ‘You sound surprised, dear.’

 _I’m not your dear. I haven’t been your dear for years,_ Cassandra thinks. ‘It’s just that… I mean, you haven’t…’

‘I know it’s been a while,’ her mother says as if it’s been only a couple of weeks instead of years. ‘But we met Dr. Nassir last week during one of my little fundraisers for the hospital and he told us the good news!’

Oh.

Oh no.

If Dr. Nassir actually told her parents about the surgery, then…

‘And we thought we should call you and ask you when you planned to come back home,’ her mother finishes, as if it’s a done deal. As if Cassandra wants nothing more than to be their prodigy child again now that her pesky little tumor is gone.

As if she would leave the best thing that’s ever happened to her and go back to New York to be her parent’s pet project again.

‘Mom,’ Cassandra says in a voice that sounds like it’s coming from miles away, ‘I’m not. I’m not coming back.’

‘But of course you are,’ her mother says, the _don’t be difficult, dear_ unspoken but clearly present. ‘The college fund is still there and I can assure you that you will still be welcome at Harvard. Your father took care of that.’

Yes, her father probably did. He always picked his investments very carefully.

‘Everything is still here, darling,’ her mother says and it’s funny. When Jake calls her _darlin’,_ the word is a soft caress against her skin and Cassandra loves it. When her mother calls her _darling,_ the word digs into her arms like a set of claws. It _hurts._ ‘You can come back whenever you want.’

‘But I don’t want to,’ Cassandra says, her initial shock now disappearing into a rising tide of fury. ‘No, mom,’ she says before her mother can cut in again, ‘I don’t. I’m not coming home. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Not _ever._ If you…’ and here she has to stop because with the fury come the tears and she has to swallow hard before she can continue: ‘If you wanted me to come home, maybe you should’ve checked on me sometime in the past _seven years_ when I was _alone_ and _scared_ and I actually _needed you._ Not now, when I’m actually doing _fine_ again.’

Her mother is quiet, probably taken aback by the sudden brutal honesty. Good. Cassandra can use the quiet to get her breathing back under some semblance of control before she says in a voice that’s colder than she’s ever heard coming out of her mouth: ‘Tell dad to use the college fund to buy a new house in the Hamptons or something, because I’m not going to use it. Goodbye.’

And presses _End call._

When she puts the phone down on the coffee table, she notices she’s trembling all over. She doesn’t know if it’s because of the anger that’s boiling up inside her or the double exhaustion of the case and whatever the _hell_ just happened. All she knows is that she wants to scream.

How _dare_ they. How _DARE_ they presume she’d come back just like that. Like nothing ever happened. Like she never had a tumor. Like they didn’t drop her like a dead weight the moment she was declared terminal.

Like they _cared about her_.

God, she needs a drink.

Her phone tells her it’s just gone past eight. It’s not too late to join Eve and Jake and Ezekiel. They will wonder at her sudden change of heart, and they will probably notice something happened, but on the other hand, they all know when they should not ask too many questions. They won’t pry, unless she lets them know it’s okay to do so.

It does mean she’ll have to change clothes again and get out of her nice, warm apartment and into the drizzling rain outside, but that’s okay too. Maybe the cold will help clear her head a little before she gets to the bar.

She should probably check if they’re still there first, though.

Ezekiel answers at the second ring. ‘Hey Cass, you wanna come rescue me from an evening of loneliness after all?’

His voice sounds cheerful and even through the phone she can feel it, like a warm hand on her shoulder. It makes breathing a little easier as she says: ‘Maybe. But I thought you went out with Baird and Stone?’

‘Yeah, well,’ Ezekiel says with the sigh of the long suffering, ‘Baird ditched us an hour ago because she was tired and Stone is hitting it off with a _very_ pretty girl in the booth next to us. I give it another ten minutes before he’s out of here as well.’

Cassandra doesn’t giggle. She’s too tired and too upset to giggle. Which is all Ezekiel needs to figure out something is off.

‘Cass,’ he says, suddenly serious, ‘what’s going on?’ Because if Cassandra does not laugh at Ezekiel’s theatrics, or at Jake getting his flirt on when he’s supposed to celebrate with the team, there is something very, very wrong _._

The worry in his voice makes Cassandra choke up again for a whole different reason. It takes a long moment before she manages to say: ‘My mother just called.’

It’s not an explanation, per se. But bless him, Ezekiel only goes quiet for a second before he says: ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

‘Bring the booze,’ is all Cassandra can say before she ends the call and bursts into tears.

\---

Thankfully, ten minutes later when her doorbell rings, the tears have dried up and she has calmed down enough to get herself a glass of water and drag a wet wipe over her face so that she doesn’t look so much like something out of one of Ezekiel’s favorite horror movies.

After she opens the door, however, Ezekiel takes one look at her and suddenly she her face is mushed up against the soft cotton of his shirt as two strong arms wrap around her so tight that she can barely breathe for fear of cracking a rib. She melts into the embrace, the storm of emotion momentarily abated by the feeling of _good_ and _safe_ and _not alone._ One hand starts stroking her back and she hums as the warmth seeps into her skin, chasing away the lingering chill of her mother’s voice that is still scratching away at the back of her skull.

Then Ezekiel presses a kiss into her hair and murmurs: ‘Let’s sit down, shall we? I brought tequila,’ and Cassandra has never loved him more.

It only takes two shots before she can tell him about the phone call without crying. Three shots and she tells him everything that happened _before._ The whole sad story about her parents, their shattered dream of a prodigy child and ten years of loneliness. Or make that twenty-five years, because if Cassandra’s honest (and she _is_ honest after four shots), she can’t remember a time when her parents actually gave a crap about _her._ You know, if you took away the prizes and the tournaments and the glittering future.

At this point, Ezekiel puts the cap back on to the bottle and pulls her close again. When Cassandra makes a protesting noise because _no, more alcohol,_ he laughs. ‘You remember that Dorian Gray thing, don’t you?’

Cassandra does. Instead of reaching out and trying to grab the bottle again, she gives in and rests her cheek against his shoulder with a sigh.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting like this, exhausted but still buzzed with alcohol and tiny flickers of anger that won’t go away, when something changes. They’ve been sitting in silence, the only sounds those of their breathing and Ezekiel’s heartbeat thrumming in her ear. And that doesn’t change, they are still not talking but what does change is this. One of Ezekiel’s hands, the one that’s been a warm weight on her side until now, is starting to move. Fingers draw delicate patterns on her pajama top before they dip underneath it, ghosting warm across the skin of her stomach. Meanwhile the other hand, the one that’s tangled with her own and resting on top of her knee, is moving down to the inside of her thigh and it’s pretty clear what the intended goal is here.

It comes to an abrupt stop as Cassandra shifts and looks up. This feels _good,_ but still. Not exactly the right time.

Then she catches the way Ezekiel looks at her and changes her mind abruptly. No time like the present, after all.

However, Ezekiel suddenly seems to realize what the hell he’s doing and the heated look is replaced by something Cassandra would almost call bashful. ‘Sorry,’ he mutters, ‘shit. Cass, I’m sorry, I didn’t...’

He lets go of her completely and Cassandra almost shivers at the sudden absence of his warmth. ‘It’s late,’ Ezekiel says, getting up before Cassandra can stop him. ‘Are you gonna be okay? I mean, I’ll stay if you want me to but I should probably go.’

Cassandra will be okay. She also wants Ezekiel to stay. And it’s probably a bad idea, brought on by alcohol and anger and a deep fear of _don’t leave me,_ but on the other hand.

On the other hand, it’s _Ezekiel._ If Jake had been here, she’d never even considered it. She loves the guy, she really does, but he is not the type that would go for a casual night of fun just because she needs to blow off steam.

With Ezekiel, she can at least try.

‘Don’t go,’ she says, getting up from the couch as well. Ezekiel stops and looks at her and in that moment, Cassandra knows that she’s making the right call. ‘Don’t go,’ she says again as she walks over, wrapping an arm around his waist and drawing herself close against him.

His arms slide around her, warm and solid as he rests his forehead against hers and Cassandra can’t resist pressing a lightning quick kiss to his lips. You know, just to give him an idea of what she has in mind.

It seems Ezekiel gets it, because he loses no time in turning the quick peck into a searing kiss that leaves her gasping for breath as he finally lets go. Not for long though, because once Cassandra has enough oxygen again, she buries one hand in the soft mass of his hair and drags him down a second time, tugging at his bottom lip until he opens up. He makes a noise in the back of his throat as she goes in deeper, a noise that feels like an electric shock to her entire system. Now she presses even closer, scrunching one hand in his shirt and tightening the other that’s still in his hair because she needs _more_ and she needs it _now._

Of course, that is the moment Ezekiel breaks off the kiss and draws back, looking at her with dark eyes and his hair already deliciously disheveled. ‘Before we go any further,’ he says, and Cassandra is _very_ pleased to hear how breathless he sounds, ‘I just got to ask. Is this just to blow off steam or is there something more going on here?’

Looking at Ezekiel, who came over as soon as she called him, who brought her a bottle of tequila to help her talk about what was wrong, who got up to leave immediately so that he wouldn’t overstep his bounds, who always knows just what to do when she’s upset and who never fails to make her laugh again, Cassandra isn’t so sure of the answer anymore.

‘I don’t know,’ she says softly. ‘But can we figure that out tomorrow?’

The grin on Ezekiel’s face lights up the room. ‘Of course we can,’ he says as he pulls her close again and the words slide against her skin in much the same way as his hands do a moment later.

\---

It’s only much, much later, when they’re lying together in a tangle of exhausted limbs, that Cassandra wonders why it would be important for Ezekiel to know if there might be something more between them.

She falls asleep before she can think about it any further, but it’s okay. Ezekiel will tell her in the morning.


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘I just got to ask. Is this just to blow off steam or is there something more going on here?’  
> ‘I don’t know,’ Cassandra says softly. ‘But can we figure that out tomorrow?’
> 
>  
> 
> Well, now it's morning and here is how that conversation goes.

That morning as she slowly drifts up from sleeping to waking, it takes Cassandra a minute to figure out where the dull throbbing behind her temples is coming from.

When she’s gone from _something alcohol related_ to _tequila_ to _phone call_ to _Ezekiel,_ she also has the answer to the arm that’s draped across her waist and the warm weight that’s plastered snugly against her back. The warm weight shifts a little, a distinct hardness pressing up against her backside and _oh god._

It had seemed such a good idea last night. Last night, when she was upset and angry and a little drunk. When he was _right there_ with his smile and his warm hands and his oh so clever fingers. Last night, when she decided that whatever was going on, they could figure out what it meant in the morning.

Well, it’s morning now. _Crap._

It’s not that she regrets what happened. Not at _all_. Last night had been _good,_ and she is still convinced that things can go back to normal between the two of them as soon as they get back to work. Ezekiel is not the type to get attached (not romantically, anyway. Even though he imprints like a mother hen on any kind of magical creature that happens to cross their path). If she simply thanks him for last night, we had fun, let’s remain friends, she has no doubt he will give her one of those stupid grins and tell her that’s fine by him. Except.

The thing is.

She’s not sure she wants to go back to normal.

After all, there’s a reason that Ezekiel was the first person she called last night. And it had nothing to do with the fact he brought tequila and everything to do with how, during the past couple of months, she has gone all warm and fuzzy inside when he smiled at her. Or how her synesthesia has apparently managed to turn a scratchy voice with an Australian accent so thick you could cut it, into something that feels like the softest silk against her skin.

_Crap._

She needs to pee.

She manages to extract herself from the bed without waking Ezekiel, which is good. While she’s in the bathroom, she also brushes her teeth and glugs back two glasses of water to combat the lurking headache. After all, it’s important to be hydrated before entering important conversations.

When she walks back into the bedroom, she sees that Ezekiel has woken up. If you can call it that, because he is blinking a little blearily at the bed and the room around him until he sees her and his eyes widen a little. A look flits over his face that Cassandra would almost call _unsure,_ before it is replaced by one of the flashing bright Ezekiel Jones™ grins.

It’s a little off, though. There’s something in there that Cassandra can’t put her finger on, and it’s even audible in his voice as he says: ‘Good morning, cupcake. You done in the bathroom then?’

Cassandra barely has time to notice the pet name before Ezekiel has all but bolted from the bed and vanished into the bathroom.

He takes a long time. So long in fact that Cassandra gives up on sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting until he’s done, and crawls back under the covers because at least it’s still warm in there. When he finally resurfaces, he looks a little more like the usual self-assured guy that Cassandra knows and loves and she has to suppress a smile at the sight of him, still looking a bit disheveled and sleep-rumpled in the dim light of the bedroom.

Oh, she is in _trouble._

Then Ezekiel looks at her with a soft smile and Cassandra starts to suspect that she might not be the only one.

‘Hey,’ she says as he starts to pick up his clothes, ‘you know you could come back in here if you want to.’ She holds the cover open for him in invitation, but Ezekiel grins, pulls his pants on and then sits himself down on the edge of the bed next to her, so she only has to lean forward to wrap him up in a good morning hug. His arms come up around her back as he pulls her in close, holding her tight for a moment before he kisses her cheek and lets her go again.

‘I got a couple of rules here, Cass,’ he says, still with that soft look on his face that sends small sparks of hope flying up inside of her. ‘First, no important conversations before breakfast. And second, no making breakfast when you’re stark bollock naked.’

Well, Cassandra can’t fault him for that. ‘Just one thing, though,’ she says before she gets out of bed to get dressed as well. ‘I mean, _cupcake?’_

Ezekiel laughs and the sound wraps around Cassandra like one of his hugs. ‘I can think of something else if you want to,’ he offers with a grin and Cassandra gets the feeling they’ve already crossed the first hurdle.

\---

Making breakfast together is _comfortable._ It’s a lot easier than Cassandra expected it would be, the two of them falling into a quiet rhythm together in the kitchen while they are making tea (Ezekiel), coffee (Cassandra), eggs on toast (Ezekiel) and oatmeal with so much dried fruit in it that it takes up half the bowl (Cassandra). Then again, they have known each other for three years and have been through hell and back with each other, so the comfort kind of makes sense.

There’s an undercurrent, though. A soft hum in the air that prickles against Cassandra’s skin and that makes her smile like a loon when her face is hidden inside a cupboard. Perhaps it’s the way Ezekiel’s hand lingers just a bit too long in the small of her back as he reaches past her for the kettle. Perhaps its’ the way he looks at her when she hands him the tea jar before he’s even asked (or the look on his face when he discovers she has _real_ tea, not the Lipton bags of sawdust that only give you murky brown water).

Or perhaps it’s the way she presses up against him as she turns on the tap to wash her hands and the way he doesn’t budge, but instead presses right back up against her.

Or the way Ezekiel snakes an arm around her waist when she’s trying to get to the towel and nuzzles a kiss into her hair before either of them know what’s happening.

‘Damn,’ he mutters, giving her a rueful smile as she looks up in surprise, laughter dancing in her eyes. ‘Kind of showed my hand there, didn’t I?’

‘A little bit,’ Cassandra whispers back before she cups his face in one hand and presses a soft kiss to his lips. ‘But I don’t mind.’

And just like that, the second hurdle is gone as well.

\---

They face the third and final hurdle, which is the actual conversation, in much the same way as they started out last night: on the couch, with Cassandra curled up against Ezekiel and his arm draped around her shoulder.

‘When I asked you last night,’ Ezekiel starts, voice soft and more serious than Cassandra has ever heard him, ‘about whether you just wanted to blow off steam or not, you said you didn’t know.’

Cassandra shakes her head because well, she didn’t. ‘I didn’t,’ she says, her fingers idly toying with a button on his shirt. ‘But I’m starting to think it wasn’t just that.’

At that, Ezekiel squeezes her a little tighter and Cassandra swallows as he says: ‘Yeah, kind of got that impression as well. But just for the record…’

He pauses for a moment, then continues: ‘Just for the record, I can do whatever you want me to do. If you want to forget this ever happened, if you want to be just friends, I can do that.’

Cassandra looks up, because that did not sound right. She has no doubt Ezekiel _can_ do what he just said, but the hesitation and the forced way he is smiling down at her also speak volumes. He could do it. He _would_ do it, if she asked. But…

‘What do you want?’ she asks, abandoning the buttons of his shirt and taking his hand, lacing her fingers through his. ‘Ezekiel, what…’

‘You,’ Ezekiel says, before he can stop himself if the faltering way he continues is any indication. ‘I mean, I… what I want is, is. You. And I don’t care how, if it’s just being friends or… or something else but. I don’t. I don’t want to lose you because we couldn’t keep it in our pants this one time.’

The word _you_ keeps trailing over Cassandra’s skin, a line of fire tracing down her arms, over her abdomen and swirling around her legs until she feels warm all over.

‘I want you too,’ she whispers, trying not to wince as Ezekiel suddenly has her hand in a death grip. ‘And I think we can skip the whole ‘go back to just being friends’ as well, because…’

Because now that she’s been allowed to kiss Ezekiel for the past twelve hours, she doesn’t want to stop.

Because she is discovering a whole new side of him, a side that’s softer and more vulnerable than she’s ever seen him and she would really like to get to know that side a little better.

Because last night was one of the best nights of her life. Because thief hands are _very_ clever.

‘…because?’ Ezekiel asks.

Cassandra giggles. ‘Because your hand is in my top again and you’re trying to cop a feel while we’re discussing what we’re going to do.’

Ezekiel starts to laugh as well and withdraws his hand. ‘Good point,’ he says as he splays the offender warm and safe across her stomach.

‘I didn’t say I _minded,’_ Cassandra says in mock dismay, making him laugh again before he looks at her with yet another expression that Cassandra hasn’t seen before: a bit unsure, a little soft and even with a little sadness. ‘I’ve done the friends with benefits thing before,’ he says, ‘but not the relationship thing. If you want that, I’ll try my best but I don’t know how good I’ll be.’

For a long moment, Cassandra sits motionless, staring up at him and unable to breathe. Because _Ezekiel Jones_ is sitting there, telling her that he might not be immediately awesome at something and _that_ is something she never expected in a million years.

‘Bit out of character, I know,’ Ezekiel says, grinning as he sees the shock on her face. ‘But don’t worry, if you want to go for the friends with benefits package, I am _awesome_ at that.’

Cassandra has no doubt. ‘Let’s start there, then,’ she says once she’s found her voice again. ‘Let’s start there and see where we end up.’

‘Sounds like a plan, cupcake,’ Ezekiel says, doubling over with laughter as Cassandra immediately whacks him over the head with a cushion.

\---

‘You’re sure, though?’ Ezekiel asks when they’ve both settled down again, after he wrestled the cushion from Cassandra and after they spent the next five minutes in a fit of giggles, both drunk with relief that they were getting out of this unscathed.

Cassandra is sitting wrapped up in his arms again, and this time it’s her turn to slide one of her hands underneath his shirt, stroking slowly up and down over smooth skin and solid muscle. ‘I’m sure,’ she says, using her other hand to cup his cheek so she can catch his mouth in a kiss. ‘But I think I’m going to need a demonstration of those benefits you mentioned. You know, just to be on the safe side.’


End file.
